Suppose
by breathlessloveless
Summary: Sirius' family takes him away to a pure-blood assembly, leaving Remus feeling abandoned and betrayed by someone who he thought would be there for him during his most vulnerable moments. Eventual slash. T for swearing. Complete.
1. Prologue I

Prologue I

The boy stretched his legs out beneath his red and gold patterned duvet, curling his toes like a contented cat. His arms then emerged out straight, into the fresh April air and slowly swung them down back to his side, laying them onto the cool untouched top of his sheets. Eyes remaining shut, the boy continued to ease out of his sleep by arching and relaxing his back, wriggling his fingers and finally, taking a deep, satisfyingly noisy yawn whilst rubbing his tired eyes until colours danced before them.

This was Remus' daily routine. He like routines, planning and knowing full well what to expect from his day, from his life (he daren't tell his friends but he had basically organised his whole career and marriage at the age of fourteen). Habit was something Remus Lupin did not foresee ever breaking throughout his perfectly precise future. When things got out of sync, he'd do whatever he could to get it back to how he liked and understood it.

Putting his weight on his hands he began lifting him self to a seated position, but then it stopped him; the ghost of Wednesday's events caused him to freeze, and the enormity of what it meant for him, Remus Lupin- future Prefect, Head Boy, Ministry of Magical Defence Department Manager, made him come back crashing down into his bed, into the same dark pattern of self-loathing he had been in for the past four days. The bed curtains remained shut and God forbid anyone who tries to pull them apart and let the bloody sunlight it. He turned to his side, hugging his legs to his body and, squeezing his eyes shut, prayed he would go back to sleep, if not just to separate him from that memory - no- from himself and from the vile monster he was.

* * *

Flushed and still sweating heavily, the Gryffindor seeker clambered up the many stairs towards their house quarters with a smaller boy on his tail laughing along with him.

"Come on, Peter!" James heckled from the top of a flight which Peter was still just turning the corner to reach the bottom of. "_You _haven't just played the most stupendously masterfully extravagantuous game of this generation- nay- the entirety of Hogwarts history, and yet you're still trailing behind me." James shook his head in mock disappointment, "I'm ashamed of you Peter Pettigrew. I thought you were to be a friend to take pride in."

"Aw! No, James, I really am a good friend," Peter panicked with a sincerity that almost made James regret taking advantage of the boy's naivety, but forgot these thoughts immediately after remembering that despite his apparent innocence, Peter could be just as cruel as he was stupid. Ever since the four of them had spent an afternoon sending wave after wave of Bat Bogey curses on some Hufflepuff second-years who'd been 'practising' their newly-learned water charm on them the day before, James had been wary of the dumpy boy in a way he never thought he'd have to be. Hearing that cold whisper from under the invisibility cloak, the barely stifled manic giggles spurting out in between the words "I think we should go all out on these little pricks- Cruciatus Curse, no?", it made James feel sick even now.

He shrugged it off; it was probably nothing. Hell, the little dope may have even acquired a sense of humour. A pretty fucking dark one though…

"Alright," the seeker panted, finally reaching the seventh floor, "Prove it."

Peter was bending over, hands on knees, looking as though he might throw up any minute. He looked up at this order questioningly.

"We've got a little problem in our dorm at the moment. A grumpy little problem that hasn't seen daylight for God knows how long now. I've tried talking to him, but, well, I'm finding it hard to get through to him." In all honesty, James didn't have a clue what to do. He was usually good at cheering people up and making them laugh, but this was way out of his league. "It's your turn now," James gestured at Peter as if enlisting him in the army, "Talk to him, get him to open up or whatever. I'm actually kinda worried…" This was an understatement. James hated quarrels between anyone except him and Sirius (and those were only alright because the insults always reached a point of absurdity very quickly, and the real cause of tension forgotten was usually forgotten in minutes), and what had happened between Sirius and Remus was potentially problematic in terms of their future existence as a tight group of friends. Remus had given little detail of what Sirius had done, but if it was true, it was damn near unforgivable. Whatever had happened, James knew Remus wasn't going to get anywhere by shutting the world out.

"Right," said James clapping his hands together for effect, "I'm off to see Lily, and then get out of these rags – in that order…" James winked, knowing even sexually-inept Peter would get the gist of what he was trying to say, or rather what he was trying to convince Peter, and to a degree, himself, was on the verge of developing.

He lifted up his gold-lined Quidditch robes and let them slump down at his side with the weight of the grass/dirt/sweat/blood that coated them. He would have stripped them off with the rest the team, but he knew that no girl, not even Lily Evans, could resist a victorious man in sports gear. He sure she could overlook the blood. It was only from a minor Bludger hit to the nose anyway. It may not have even been broken, just a little off centre. He was still bloody irresistible.

* * *

Remus heard a timid knock on the dorm door

"Remus? Can I come in?" a voice squeaked from the other side.

"It's your dorm too, remember?" cried Remus, his voice croaky from lack of use.

As if trying to decipher how that answer related to his permission to enter, Peter eased the door open so slowly the noise it emitted was painfully creaky, and popped his head nervously to see if it was alright to enter. Remus sighed as he peered through a gap in the bed drapes to see his friend looking so uncomfortable in his own room.

"Oh, come in; you're perfectly safe. It's not a full moon for eight nights yet."

Peter now looked extremely awkward – his face was pink and he was wringing his hands profusely.

"Uh… no, I didn't mean to… It's just I didn't want to disturb –"

Remus rolled over onto his side, curling into the familiar ball he'd been in for the last four days.

"Whatever," he mumbled into his sheets. It wasn't even worth the effort to jibe Peter 'Squeaker' Pettigrew. He didn't tease him as much as the others did; he generally found them to be a little too cruel in their taunting, but even Remus' mild temper had a breaking point sometimes.

"Listen, um…" Peter muttered gingerly, "Just to let you know, we – I mean me and James – really don't have a problem with your, um, problem." Peter picked up some confidence, although Remus had no idea where from; his powers of persuasion were hardly winning him over. "I mean, just look at James, he doesn't even think about you anymore. Oh, God, I mean… what I mean is that he doesn't think of_ that_ part of you anymore. He's just concerned about you. We both are."

Remus removed his face from the mess of his covers and looked over his shoulder to see Peter holding open the drapes around his bed.

"So, coming down for dinner? It's honey-roasted pork and then apple pie for dessert!" Peter grinned in a way that, along with his pink freckled cheeks and short mousy hair, made him look about seven.

Remus rolled onto his back, contemplating whether to crawl out of his cocoon and try getting over what happened.

"Maybe. Yeah."

"Great! And, um," Peter went on, "I know it doesn't really look like it right now but I just _know_ Sirius is worried about you too. I just don't know why he had to go and–"

"Get out."

Peter blinked, "What?"

"NOW! GET OUT, PETER! GET OUT OF MY ROOM, GET OUT OF MY WAY AND YOU AND JAMES LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE!"

After a speedy scuffle to the door, the room was Remus' again. He rolled over for the millionth time that day and hugged his legs to his body. This was fast becoming a bad routine.

"Fuck you, Sirius," he growled into his pillow wishing the boy could hear him through the vast space between them, "I wish you were dead."


	2. Prologue II

Prologue II

Sirius sniggered to himself and he slumped his body down on the soft chair that seemed to engulf him. (Then again, who knew in this house? Dark magic clung to every surface in his wretched house – why not a potentially carnivorous armchair?) Bella's hair would never looked the same again, poor thing. The teenage girl's voice reverberated around the mansion as she shrieked in lament over the tragedy (an accident on Sirius' behalf, of course) on her once beautifully silky hair to a bush-like mound on her head that seemed to defy gravity.

"You're dead, you brat! Honest to God dead!" Further indecipherable screechings came from the corridor leading to the library where Sirius was now relaxing/hiding for his life. "I jest not, you slimy bag of steaming–"

Growing tired, and slightly wary, of Bellatrix's complaints Sirius flicked his wand behind him to shut, lock and soundproof the large engraved door. He used a second locking charm too, just in case.

_Amusing_, he thought, _and yet not at all funny_. Pranks weren't any fun without anyone to laugh with, anyone to grab and run when being chased by an angry, and usually messy, victim. As much as Sirius was doing to try and entertain himself, he hated it in Moscow.

The place alone was pretty grim. The temperature, despite it being spring, refused to rise above freezing and the snobs seemed to prefer it that way as they made no attempt at heating the large rooms. He supposed that either they were too incompetent at magic to perform any decent heating spells (due to their delusions of grandeur restricting any actual learning occurring whilst they were meant to be getting an education) or their cold shells of hearts could not stand any form of heat without melting into a foul pool of liquid ready to seep it's way through the damp-ridden floor boards back towards whoever it was pulling the strings on the dark goings-on in the world recently.

The city itself, however, was intriguing to the boy and he would have been interested to see the underworld of the city life: the bars, the artefact black markets, even to poke around the infamous Russian witch brothels. Few knew it, especially not his close friends, but his own heart was never entirely withdrawn from the darker sides of the world. Besides, grand monuments and buildings had surrounded him since birth, and he had as little interest in these things now as he did growing up.

His father, seeing his curiosity for the grimy street life of southern Moscow when they walked from the Apparation point to their residence, forbade him sternly not to go 'gallivanting about like you own the place'.

Sirius snorted to himself upon remembering his father's vehement warning. Whatever. He didn't intend to go out. He didn't want to run the risk of doing anything that might prevent him from going back to Hogwarts.

Besides, he had much more important things to do right here.

* * *

"Chriiiiiist," Sirius groaned quietly, his head resting not-so-comfortably on a large book that had a strong musty odour that induced a constant feeling that he was about to sneeze. Surrounding him on the desk were heaps of similar-looking books that when reading them made Sirius' head hurt just as much as his nose was irritated.

He had thought this was going to be pretty simple. A house filled with pure-bloods, he had guessed that the books would be packed with useful information and tips when dealing with this sort of thing. Instead he found vast collections of sadistic spells and recipes for potions used for torture, many of which Sirius assumed had been banned by the Ministry centuries ago. One book disturbed him more than the others. 'Power' was all that was written on the cover along with a black image of a slightly crazed looking wizard holding his glowing wand to the blood red sky, whist standing atop a mass of what appeared to be corpses of muggles and other witches and wizards. He placed it slowly back snugly between two larger books and shook his head as if to remove the memory.

Of course, it was not helping that good deal of the library books was either written in Russian or in such an ancient text that they could be any language for all the use Sirius could hope to get out of them. Sirius was used to having information described slowly to him in the form of a textbook or class notes or at least a librarian to point him in the right direction. This type of research was way out of his depth.

_I wish Remus was here,_ he thought, sighing internally, _he'd be great at this research stuff. Plus…_ _I just wish Remus was here. Stupid prick_…

However, after a great deal of determined searching, he stumbled across several passages in one of the older books he'd searched through in depth. The section was named 'Crytvres frum Cursus ant Selv-Trams-Frmaetion'.

Attempting to override his automatic instinct to switch his brain off at anything slightly academic, Sirius waded through the words and illustrations, which he found were generally more useful, and by far clearer, than the long-winded ramblings of 'F. P. Rhysil'.

He flicked through the long chapter to find various images grotesquely depicting the subjects which F. P. can't have been too fond of. One was of a man shrieking in obvious agony with hairy elongated legs and a spinal column protruding painfully from his back. Another showed a group of animals tearing off pieces of what looked like a child's body. The pictures were old but so graphic Sirius felt physically ill. He kept turning the thick pages until he came across an image that filled a double page of the book.

The beast – a wolf – was being slaughtered by a mob of wizards and witches. A little boy and a man, possibly the family of the girl the beast killed in the previous image, were ramming in large shining metal poles and blades into its chest, where blood poured copiously of from the many wounds caused. A caption that coiled round the beast's back stated that this was 'thae unly wae out – thae pathe ov the ryghte '.

Sirius slammed the book shut, causing dust and a few Musk Pixie Flies hiding in the spine to fly out into the air. He rubbed his eyes from sleep deprivation, stress and now irritation from the floating specks, and decided to pack it in for the day. He wasn't done yet, though. He had a lot more work to do tomorrow.

* * *

However intimidating the giant house was in the day, it could not compare to the dramatic transformation it undertook at night. Sirius could swear it was designed, or cursed, this way to deter intruders, after all many of the artefacts stored here were near priceless. But that wasn't the reason Sirius' heart was pounding.

He had to see it.

He'd almost forgotten about it before – or at least it was moved to his subconscious for a while, but lying in bed, the image – that bold silhouette stood out in his head when he closed his eyes and seemed to burn a permanent image into his mind when he opened them. Except now it was him standing atop the mound of bodies, his wand in the air, his figure surrounded by glory

He had to read it.

'Power'

He rushed down the spiral stairs, not even trying to mask the creaks that accompanied every step, a grin seeped from his thoughts onto his face as he ran through the large oak door and rushed up to the shelves.

"Shit, shit, shit, SHIT," he whispered angrily to himself as his eyes flickered between the rows of books searching frantically for what he knew he shouldn't be.

"I need it," he soothed himself softly as he rushed up and down the rows, trying to remove all uncertainty in his mind about reading the forbidden book. "I've always been a worthless cockroach in this family, at school, in the entire fucking world, like a smear of shit on someone's fucking window that they're forever trying to wipe off, but they don't get it. They don't know how much fucking potential I have. I mean I may be all smiles and fucking laughter on the outside but I can do things, pretty damn powerful things. I'll show Mother and Father that they daren't be ashamed of me any more. And Malfoy and Bella and Cissy and all the teachers and… and…"

Sirius suddenly stopped – stopped moving, stopped talking, stopped to realise what he was doing. James, Remus… what would they do if they could see him right now? Stare at him in disgust? Ask him who he was? Run for their lives?

Sirius stood, hand over mouth, his eyes wide with realisation. The image still blazed in front of his eyes except now James' arm protruded from the pile of corpses, Remus' limp body was underneath his foot, his lifeless face frozen in fear and sadness.

"Rem…" Sirius cried out quietly, jerking back, his own voice startling him. Got to get back, he thought, back to bed – away from here for now, away from this God-forsaken darkness.

* * *

Croissant in mouth, Sirius hummed to himself, far more motivated to work the next day. The subject of today's 'project' was much less distressing and would actually be of practical use to him. He decided that last night's events never happened; they were a vivid dream that reflected nothing of his own thoughts or character, and would never become part of reality.

Using the same old-style book as before (he had started to get used to the bizarre language used and enjoyed the idea of its ancient secrets long forgotten by the world), Sirius flicked hastily past the disturbing pictures of 'the beast' that still lingered heavily in his mind and reached the subtopic 'Selv-Trams-Frmaetion – Emmbraesing Thy Innar Beaste'.

The boy smiled, picking up the leather-bound book, leaned back in the voluptuous armchair and engrossed himself in what he hoped would change everything.


	3. Prologue III

Prologue III

Lily Evans' unhidden sigh of immense frustration could probably be heard from the other side of the lake. Potter was not only being his usual cocky self, but this time, due to his being assigned her project partner for Transfiguration homework, he was trying on his 'moves' clearly aware that she couldn't escape if she wanted to get good marks from Professor Riley. It didn't help either that she didn't have Potter's cronies around. They could be as bad as him when it came to causing trouble most of the time, but even they could see when he was pushing her personal boundaries too far. Sirius was, for the fourth week or so, still in Moscow, Peter was in remedial Potions, not that he would _dare _say anything to offend Potter's pride, and Remus, usually the most reliable of the three…well Remus just wasn't all_ there._

Somehow Potter had managed to coax him out of his room (something to do with bringing up that his mother would not be able to stand seeing him this way – a cheap shot but at that point, who cared?), not that it made much difference. He might as well have been isolated in his room as sitting, staring blankly at the ripples on the lake's dark surface. She had no idea what was troubling him other than it was something to do with Sirius and his leaving. It wasn't surprising knowing how tactless that boy could boy, but it amazed her that he would be so careless around Remus; he had always been so protective over him before.

Lily leaned over to him (and away from Potter's wandering hand), tucking her thick auburn hair behind her ear and said, "Remus, could you help us with this spell? We can't seem to get the incantation pronunciation right."

The silence was painful. Remus made no movement or even any indication that he'd heard.

Lily was about to give up and continue practicing transforming Potters' tongue into marshmallow, when a rough voice came from Remus' back, which was turned away from her.

"You don't need me. You're better than me at it so don't patronise me by asking."

He said all this with such lack of emotion, Lily for the first time felt genuinely concerned about the boy. It dawned on her that this might not just be an argument over a teasing remark or a girl they both fancied. Whatever, had happened between them might last longer, and the effects far more traumatic, than she'd first thought.

"Lily," muttered Potter behind her, brown eyes looking at her through his round glasses with a rare sincerity that she was ashamed to admit, made her fall for him ever so slightly at those moments, "leave him, he'll get over it on his own. Besides, babe," the boy now reverted to his conceited 'true' self, leaning over and placing his hand dangerously high up her leg while smiling the devil's grin, "we'll get _way _more done this way"

The next second, Lily was standing up glaring at her harasser, eyes wide with fury, Potter was bent double, hand cradling his gradually swelling face and tentatively opening and closing his recently struck jaw as if to check if the girl had left any permanent damage. Lily, suddenly remembering Remus, flicked her head in his direction to see if she'd upset him.

He hadn't moved. Not one millimetre.

Breathe, Lily Evans, she told herself, you're better than this. They're just boys. They'll get over it. Eventually…

"Evans! Was that really necessary?" James yelled, "You were giving me all the signals that you wanted me!"

"What signals, Potter?" Lily yelled, holding nothing back. If the other side of the lake could hear her Potter-related sigh then the entire castle could definitely hear her finally lose it with the boy. "No, really, tell me: what exact signals did I give you? When I said 'no'? When I batted you away every damn time you put your arm around me? Or maybe when, other than for the benefit of this… stupid project, I avoid you at every instance I can? Please, enlighten me!"

Potter just knelt, hand dropped away from his cheek in pure disbelief. His eyes after a while, though, averted to his silent friend.

"Evans, babe, Remus–"

"You know what?" Lily shouted. This was it – her fuse was blown and no way was she stopping now. Maybe the myth about red-heads was true, but once she lost her temper she was unstoppable "Screw Remus!"

At this Remus turned his head ever so slightly in his aggressor's direction, face still showing no signs of emotion.

"Yeah, screw you, Remus Lupin! Lord knows what's wrong with you but whatever the hell it is, get over it! Seeing you mope around like your best friend's dead isn't making my attempts at enduring this bastard's company any easier" She pointed violently at Potter. "You're not doing yourself any favours acting like this."

"And you," she turned dramatically, facing Potter, ready to give him all her stored frustrations in one blast, "You're…You're just so..." She screwed up her face, which was fact turning a vivid shade of pink, "You're such a dick, James Potter!"

Lily turned in a flourish grabbing her bag handle as she span. She then walked a few stomping paces, turned back around facing the boys and shook her head angrily.

"You both have _serious_ problems."

James flopped himself down onto the hard ground and rested his wearily confused self against the base of the rugged tree they were sitting under.

"Whoa. What the hell was that?"

James stared at Lily as she marched purposefully towards the castle. This wasn't the first time he had watched her go, but this time his respect for her had grown significantly. "Jesus Christ…" he muttered in wonderment.

"Got a serious problem, have I?" Remus quiet voice emerged from James right, mumbling as if talking to himself.

"What, mate?"

Remus finally shifted his body around to face James, apparently a different person, though not exactly the same one he was before either.

"I would say so too, hmm?" James stared at him, judging Remus warily, "That I have a _Sirius_ problem." Remus smirked humourlessly, "Ya' hear that James?"

"Shit, Remus, will you stop being so Goddamn dark! It's creeping me out."

"Then do yourself a favour and just fuck off, James."

James was taken aback. Never in the four years of knowing each other, had he known Remus to swear so brazenly, and he would never dream that he would say such a thing towards him. Remus would never even joke about by saying that, which scared James all the more.

James could not help but watch on at his friend, who didn't move, did not attempt to apologise or even face him when telling him where to go – he just sat, motionless, staring – just staring into nothing.

James hastily got to his feet and left, wanting to get away as quickly as possible from this ghost of the Remus he once knew and loved. He was genuinely frightened of what had happened to him.

_Sirius had better come back soon and sort out this fucked up business_, James thought irately, _or he'll be held accountable for the loss of a once very close friend._

* * *

"Hi James," a voice reverberated round the foyer. James searched for the source, only to find Peter smiling and waving at him from the staircase, which was presently sweeping around allowing the short boy to get off at the main entrance hall where James was currently hovering, contemplating the Remus issue before Potions started (he decided not to skive this time because at least the menial tasks of chopping and weighing insect body parts might distract him from the chaos around him).

"Look Pete," James started, running his hands through his scruffy hair roughly until it was even messier than before, "I've got Potions in a few minutes and you've got Muggle Studies or something and–"

"Actually I've got Muggle Studies now"

"Well, whatever, but frankly, I'm just really not in the mood to muck about."

Peter looked blank.

"Oh. Well if it's about Remus, I guess I could try and help. We had quite a good chat the other day," the boy beamed and then his face dropped, "well, before he shouted at me. That was a bit scary. I only mentioned Sirius; I didn't talk about exactly what he did or anything."

"Jesus Christ, Pete, could you be anymore oblivious?" James just didn't care right now. Usually standing up for the kid when others made fun of his innocence, at this moment his irritability was sparked and Peter was the easy target at the receiving end. "Seriously, though, how _do _you cope? Life must be pretty damn tough being so bloody useless all the time?"

James stopped himself, and ran his hands over his face rubbing his eyes and prepared to apologise. Looking at the dumpy boy, though, all feelings of regret were overridden by sheer frustration and exhaustion accumulated over the past few weeks, so he just shook his head, snorted and descended the stairs to the dark corridors of the Potions classrooms.

* * *

Later on James came to say sorry for taking his anger too far and he reverted to his usual style of teasing Peter gently and just ignoring any comment that was too ridiculous to pay attention to. However, had he turned round before going to Potions and seen the younger boy's face that morning he might not have been so quick to apologise.

Peter's face was no longer the recognisable naïve, even cute, face that his friends, and all those around him had gotten used to. It was contorted to the venomous scowl of a cold-blooded boy intent on removing himself from those who called themselves 'friends'. He wasn't useless at all. He knew it. James, Sirius and Remus knew it; he couldn't even count the number of times he'd have to sneak into someone's office or common-room or eavesdrop on some conversation or other for their benefit. They didn't think him useless then.

And his other friends definitely didn't think he was useless. They were always so full of praise when he dripped little pieces of information into their eager ears. They were always so curious to hear about James' family and their jobs with the Ministry and they were desperate to know about Sirius' family's connections with the marvellous Dark Lord they had heard so much about. Yes, they saw his skills and appreciated him for it. The Slytherins were his only true friends.

**By the way, these side-stories/notes relating to Peter's darkness, James and Lily, Sirius' family rubbing off on him are more of a nod to the original characters and canon than a plot that'll be developed in full. **

**Basically, you're here for the ship (don't deny it, you fangirl/boy) but that's not to say you can't enjoy a well-rounded story amongst the lovefluff (which by the way, will develop soon)!**


	4. Chapter I

**I apologise in advance for increasingly lengthy chapters. It's not intentional; they seem to extend on their own accord. **

**(Like a penis, hur, hur). **

**Who said that…?**

**Anyway, please stick with it and enjoy.**

Chapter I

The carriage pulled by mysterious black beasts rumbled away up the dark path disappearing as part of the shadows. The sound seemed to vanish as quickly as the coach itself, making one question soon after getting off if it ever existed at all. Sirius, however, did not turn back to see it go. He just wanted to get back to the familiar comfort of Hogwarts' cold, gloomy castle, and as far away from his heartless relatives as possible. That way it was easy to pretend that he had nothing to do with them, that the Black blood running through their veins was not the same as that in his own.

With a flippant flick of his wand, Sirius' luggage raised itself gently off the ground, as if filled with helium balloons, and hovered loyally by his side as he trudged the track in the cool evening, humming to himself as he thought of the warm common room atmosphere with first-years gossiping and the older students revising for exams or laughing loudly at some juvenile joke. Smiling as he drew nearer to the edge of the woods, he could almost feel the warmth of the glowing fireplace light up his face.

The trek up the seven flights of ancient, and very steep, staircases seemed longer and more demanding than usual due to either lack of sufficient exercise over the last few weeks or the sheer nagging anticipation of seeing everyone again after so long weighing him down. Sirius wondered what they would have to say to him – what gossip and what they had learned.

He sighed, pausing to think and catch his breath. He had forgotten about all that work to catch up on and he needed to see Professor Guillark, the head of house, to collect it all. Seeing as he was nearly at his office on the fifth floor, he decided to do so now, not really stopping to consider whether he would be awake and willing to talk at this time in the evening.

* * *

Sirius' knock was greeted by a sandy haired wizard wearing pale green night robes complete with loose nightcap covering his prematurely balding head.

The young man gazed airily at Sirius, clearly wondering what sort of emergency would cause someone to stir him from his bed. He waved the candle he was holding vaguely around Sirius' bewildered face, clearly struggling to decipher who it was when his eyelids felt like lead.

After a few more seconds of dangerous candle wielding, the professor leaned back in recognition and gave an unimpressed once-over at the boy.

"Mr Black," Guillark drawled, his voice still husky from the sleep he had recently been deprived, "How was Russia?"

"It was-"

"You got my note then?"

"Ah," Sirius stammered, "y-yes, but I may not have spoken to _every _one of my teachers like you asked. You see, I was very short on time. I had to leave for Hogsmead, to meet up with our house-elf that is, about an hour after I opened it. Well, I received it quite a bit earlier but actually _reading_ it slipped my mind. Anyway, I still had to pack too and James kept putting owl droppings and dead mice in my socks-"

"Yes, I am aware." Professor Guillark rested his back on the door frame. Despite his posh voice and 'distinguished' dress sense, he was really quite laid-lack, "Not of Mr Potter's false sense of commitment – well that too – but what I mean to say is that I've been in contact with all of your subject teachers and arranged an … alternative solution to you actually doing the work on your trip like you were supposed to. I shall discuss that later, but for now…"

He turned swiftly back into his room, his robes sweeping and shifting the dirt of his office floor around in circles around the floor. The professor slammed the door behind him, leaving us Sirius' feeling lost as to whether the discussion to be continued in a few moments, or whether Guillark's fatigue had got the better of his conversation skills and hauled him back to bed. He hovered for a moment at the professor's doorstep, considering just leaving this whole shenanigan for a time when he was less tired himself.

Professor Guillark returned with a smug look accompanied by a dishevelled pile of parchment pieces thrust at the boy.

Sirius withheld a groan, reminding himself to redirect his frustration onto Peter later, and cheerfully accepted the dreaded stack. He flashed Guillark his smoothest grin, surprising himself when the young professor blushed and muttered something about keeping up to date on work and shuffled off back to his room, somehow managing to look even more awkward than someone wearing Victorian nightclothes looks anyway.

He turned cheerily and continued up to the seventh floor. _Guess I've got charms I never knew I had_, he thought_. I'll be using that one on Guillark again to get out of whatever detention I'll blatantly get sooner or later; maybe I'll try it on some of the others too._

Overall, it was surprising how little effort he had to make to get out of over a month's worth of lessons with little more than a caution regarding end of year exams. He had presumed they would be much stricter about it – they certainly were when that Ravenclaw boy in his Charms class tried to leave for Christmas holidays early. Why made his case so special?

Then it hit him: maybe it was just the fact that it was _his_ case. After all, whatever their intentions, Sirius' family were crucial benefactors towards the school's building and its maintenance. Without their money, Hogwarts would literally collapse. Denying them anything would be like biting, stabbing and shitting on the hand that fed them. Sirius sighed – he had thought Hogwarts might be above prostrating itself towards any creature with a galleon to spare.

He swung himself smoothly round a creaking barrister post, earning him a scolding from a stuffy portrait who Sirius believed was probably sitting there waiting for anyone to walk past and boost his sense of superiority by complaining about. Sirius rolled his eyes, subtly flicking a Topsy-Turvy Charm towards the painting, not really aiding the noise situation but doing its bit to boost his own feelings of self-worth which at the moment had dampened down considerably.

He had just reached the Fat Lady. Past the password barrier, through the gap, up the short scarlet-decorated staircase laid his dorm – lay Remus.

As successfully as he had avoided thinking about him and…the incident, it was now impossible for Sirius to avoid him anymore. He had to talk to him. And more than that, he_ wanted_ to confront him; he didn't listen before, but he would damn sure listen now.

* * *

_Sirius lugged his suitcase onto his bed with the same apathy he was putting into any task relating to this God-forsaken 'family assembly' – their words, not his. The term 'holiday' was never raised, not that a word associated with relaxation and, God-forbid, fun, could ever be used in anything relating to a swarming of Blacks._

_He had been jabbering on about some menial event or thought that had occurred to him as he was packing trying to distract himself from what he was now doing. He also knew that Remus secretly enjoyed Sirius's tangential blathering; Sirius often spotted him disguising a smirk at the idiocy that spouted out of his mouth by coughing or peering up to a book, closely analysing some diagram._

_When Sirius glanced over this time, however, instead of a smile, Remus was sitting on the edge of his bed staring unwaveringly right at him. Before Sirius could query anything, Remus spoke:_

"_James and Pete know." Remus was less informing and more yelling. He was clearly nervous. "They must have known already so I just came out with it when they were grilling me. They seemed shocked, though. I suppose they didn't know after all…"_

_Sirius stood there, waiting for Remus to get to the point._

"_It's not that I didn't want to tell you first, I did. You're…you're my best friend, you know?"_

_Sirius dropped the pair of boxers he was planning to throw in with the rest of his luggage and sat down beside him; this was clearly more serious than he had first assumed._

"_I know, mate." Sirius rested his arm around his friend's shoulders hoping to add comfort to whatever he was about to say, although if he were to be honest with himself, the contact was to ease his own stress too. Whatever Remus was about to admit would clearly jeopardise their relationship. "Course I know, we're best mates, and I'll do whatever I can to-"_

_Remus was near-hyperventilating and seemed more than a little flustered. He removed Sirius's arm to remove at least the physical pressure on him at that moment._

"_Well, please remember that when I tell you this, because you're probably not going to like it, but…" Remus swallowed deeply, gasping slightly at his heavy breath being restricted in that short moment, "I'm a werewolf."_

_Sirius sat. Still._

_Remus seemed to gain confidence and, for some reason, rage._

"_And I know it's dirty and sick and it makes me less human but," Remus gazed up from his lap, his jaw tense, "it's who I am so you can like it or get the hell out. I don't want to be around someone who doesn't accept that part of me."_


	5. Chapter II

Chapter II

_Remus felt horribly numb and yet horribly vulnerable. His eyes never moved from the boy sitting next to him, hoping for any indication of his thought processes or whether or not he would attack him._

_Nothing happened, though. Remus almost felt like quizzing him more just to get this initial air of unsettlement out of the way. _

_Eventually, after what felt to Remus like the whole evening, Sirius turned to him. His face was filled with disgust._

"_Fuck you, Remus Lupin." He stood up and shifted himself back to beside his own bed, as if terrified of being seated next to his best friend of four years in case werewolfishness could be contracted that way. "I thought you were better than this."_

_Remus couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't breathe. The rational part of him couldn't believe he was being so unreasonable. A voice beyond this overpowered –_ of course he reacted this way, he's a pureblood. To him you're disgusting – no, you are disgusting.

_His eyes began to wander around the room, anywhere to get away from those dark penetrating eyes. A slight movement caught his eye outside the window, a fluttering on the spire of the opposing tower block. Finding it hard to focus on the terrifyingly real issue at hand, his mind, in self-defence got distracted by meaningless peripheral things – anything to keep his mind of the eventual heartbreak he was presently restricting. Weakly._

Fluttering…possibly an owl?

_A muffled voice from the corner of his ear: "You're supposed to be a friend."_

No, it couldn't be, it was far too early in the was barely – what time was it again? Well the clock had said twenty past five when Sirius started… when the packing started. It couldn't be long since half past. An owl out at half five? A laughable notion.

"_How could you?"_

_As if these words were a trigger for his legs, Remus sprung off the bed and, yelling some indecipherable expression of rage, charged towards Sirius. Blinded by his frustration, his feeble attempt of an attack resulted in Remus finding himself toppled over and shoved onto his back, his fall cushioned by what he assumed was Peter's empty suitcase he had left at the foot of his bed._

_The built up of unreleased anger in his system and the general pain that had been killing him since his confession must have prompted something in his body, because the next thing he knew Remus could feel his eyes sting. Oh God, though Remus, not now. He stared up at Sirius from his shameful position on the ground. He was faintly surprised to see him looking apologetic and even worried for him._

Yeah right.

"_Mate, Remus, I didn't mean to…I'm-"_

"_You're what?" Remus cried out, louder than anticipated. The lump building in his throat burned as he spoke. "You're sorry? Tch! don't pretend you're so liberal and forgiving when really you're no better than the rest of you sick family! You know, I could tell that even when you found out I was a filthy half-blood you were repulsed. I guess I could never hope to be good enough for precious little Master Black's precious litt-"_

_At that Sirius turned abruptly for the door, swinging the heavy wood violently on its hinges. Remus hoped this would be the outcome of his rant. What he had said was harsh, but so what? He had been hurt twice as bad and right after he had poured his heart out. Besides what he said to Sirius didn't matter, Remus just needed it all to stop and let Sirius leave. His own pride prevented him from running out himself, but his feet were twitching to leave throughout._

_Sirius, however, was still standing in the doorway, his hand still on the door latch. Before pacing out the room, he muttered quietly but with utter coldness:_

"_I hope you maul yourself to death."_

* * *

From an outsider's perspective, Remus's bed appeared to be empty save ball of bulky objects under the thick duvet. It had to be a pile of clothes or something because no person could remain unmoving for hours upon hours, right?

After the incident by the lake, Remus decided that anything beyond his bed was not worth venturing out of his room for. Nothing now, no parent-related persuasions could tease him out now, not even his monthly transformation. He would stay in bed forever, and the wolf would have to bear it. But the appeal of this plan was almost as dismal as that of trying to living his wretched life.

_You know there's only one answer. Why not take Sirius's advice? It would ease your pain and make the world a much better place. One less werewolf in the world can only be a good thing._

Remus pulled the sheets over his ears to block out the voice in his head. He knew it was right, though. Why would he try to drown out the voice of reason if he weren't aware of the truth it spoke?

Out of the blue, Remus burst out laughing. If anyone had walked it at point they would have thought the solitude had finally driven him mad. _So what? Maybe I am_.

The reason for this sudden outburst was his reflection on his situation, a darkly humourous realisation at the extreme transformation ha had made over the past few weeks, far more acute than any anthropomorphic change he made every month or so. A month or two ago he had been in this room and on this bed, tears streaming down his face – tears of laughter. Sirius had somehow led the conversation into an fantasy, but scarily easy to imagine, commentary of McGonagall's sex life, with actions included. He remembered that at the time he had just come back from the Shack, after an awful transformation. When he climbed on his bed ready to sleep the aching away, the fresh wounds on his arms and the top of his back sent shockwaves of pain through his frame.

But all of that seemed to pale when Sirius started to pretend to strip off his tartan robes and do a naughty strip tease in front of James, laughing so much they became silent and his face was glowing red. What did a few hours of pain matter when he had these friends for the rest of his life? As long as he had Sirius with him, he knew he could face any horrors the universe threw his way.

But that was problem. Sirius wasn't by his side and never would be anymore. The shock of his reaction was somehow holding back the grief of it. It was Sirius – care-free, free-spirited, loyal Sirius. The one Remus had always looked up to, been so proud of, both him and his actions. He had always felt a secret honour at being so close to him. His disdain for Remus made no sense. _Well clearly, _the darkness spoke, _your repulsiveness sis too much even for him to cope with. James and Peter just haven't seen it yet. They'll leave too eventually._

Strangely this didn't seem to grieve him as much it should. Sirius was gone. The idea of the others leaving could not seem to inflict anything else onto his misery. Sirius hated him, was repulsed by him, and Remus could do nothing to change that. He would be forever alone. It didn't seem to matter who else might be there; without Sirius, he was alone. And the worst part was he couldn't bring himself to hate him. He had tried but all he felt was sadness.

"Oh God, Sirius," he whispered into his hand, finally verbally releasing the pain and rage he had been holding inside for six weeks.

The door hinges squeaked for the hundredth time that day. James had opened the window for him, treating him like a dog in a car or possibly trying to freeze him out of the room, and wind managed to blow to door handle off its pathetic latch. Remus stumbled out his bed, his legs themselves seemed to creak and shuffled over to the window.

On his way back to his bed he still felt a breeze coming from the doorway. He turned to close that too, but his breath caught at what he saw. Sirius Black was standing in the doorway with a suitcase in one hand, clothes falling off him as if he had run all the way back.


	6. Chapter III

Chapter III

Sirius cleared his throat into a gloved hand and nonchalantly puts down his bag beside his bed, conveniently the one closest to where he now stood. He casually meandered between beds, bags and general clutter around the room to reach his beloved record player. The ease and familiarity of how Sirius flicked through his collection, smiled decisively on a record and put it on almost made Remus forget the rift between them.

Sirius sauntered towards Remus, whose eyes had not left the boy since he spotted him, and over the light riffs of some Led Zeppelin track, asked:

"Wanna dance?"

Remus stared, stupefied, at Sirius outstretched hand and them back up to his face. He couldn't tell if his easy smile was forced or genuine. He didn't trust his instincts regarding Sirius anymore.

"You're unbelievable," eventually came out of Remus's mouth.

"That's what she said last-"

The anger brewing since five weeks ago finally ruptured Remus's present surprisingly calm composure.

"I can't believe you're actually taking this as a joke!"

Sirius was now leaning on the rust-coloured wall adjacent to Remus's bed where Remus was now hovering, unsure he could stand without shaking but unwilling to relax himself in any way by being seated.

"I'm just trying to make this easier for you."

"By making juvenile innuendo jokes?"

It almost felt like old times. Both boys might have gone into their usual fashion – broken into a smile and punched each other playfully if not for what was at stake.

"Mate," Sirius sighed, "why don't we just get this over with?"

"Yes." Remus found himself sitting, and stared down, rucking bed sheets between his fingers. "Please."

"…"

Remus realised about a minute had passed and wondered spitefully if Sirius's short attention span had got the better of him once again and maybe had starting charming his clothes to dual each other like he did when Remus had tried to explain to him the basic laws of runes. When he glanced up, however, he saw Sirius standing in the same place as before, arms crossed and staring back at him.

"Well?"

"Well what?" Sirius scoffed irately, "I'm the one waiting!"

"For what, me to chance into a freak-show beast for you to throw things at?" Remus could feel warmth rising in is face and he could tell, angry at his body for doing so, that he was going red.

"No," Sirius said calmly, "for your apology."

…

"For my _what?_"

"Yeah," Sirius pushed himself off the wall, nodding his head rapidly with a scowl on his face, "yeah, that's what I thought."

Remus stood frozen in disbelief, unable to make anything from this conversation. Sirius was permanently out of his range of understanding now.

"And I thought you were meant to be smart. Guess people like you stick to reading books rather than trying to read people's hurts."

The pain and complete bewilderment of his mind in this conversation caused his strange internal monologue to fire up again.

_His grammar has really gone downhill. He must be watching too much of that awful sitcom he found on muggle television. _

"Like I give a shit if you're a fucking werewolf!"

_I hate it when he swears unnecessarily. It doesn't fit his relaxed personality at all – highly unbecoming._

"Can't you just treat me as a friend and not as a Black for once."

_I'm not sure why he said that; he shares no resemblance to his family. Other than his chin. It's quite square and refined, like how you would expect a wealthy man's chin to be. Maybe it was a genetic thing. Purebloods tended to be inbred after all, especially the rich, and so I suppose it's quite likely that the traits one links with affluence and power are simply associations one automatically forms in-_

"Remus!"

He felt a cold hand on his cheek. Human contact snapped him out of his delusional thinking. Sirius was naturally a very…tactile person, but with his much angst in the air, it made him flinch. His hand did not move from its place.

Remus reached up and slowly but firmly grasped Sirius's wrist and pulled it away from his face. He shivered as a breeze from the still-open doorway brushed past the area of skin where his hand had been.

"You really have no idea how much you've hurt me, do you? Are you that cold? I'm not like you; I can't brush everything off just like that."

Sirius smiled sadly. "You're a dense little sod, Remus." he playfully knocked Remus on the head. "Did you not hear what I just said? I don't care that you're a werewolf."

Despite this being the second time he had said it, it was first time Remus had really heard it. He was touched but still confused. So much of what was said before didn't fit in with this wonderful new revelation.

"And to be honest, mate, you didn't exactly hide it well; always disappearing off at night once a month. It was either that or you were PMSing, which actually explain a few things…"

Remus punched Sirius more to show appreciation for showing that he understood that Remus trusted him again rather than chastisement for his stupid teasing.

"Ouch!" cried Sirius in mock pain. "You hit tough for a girl!"

"You pretentious inbred git!"

Remus laughed freely, launching himself off the bed onto Sirius, and out of his month of misery for good.


	7. Chapter IV

Chapter IV

Sirius enjoyed the twelve hours or so of relaxation he had after reconciling with Remus and bantering with the rest of the house in the common room. (Thankfully during his years at Hogwarts, his cleaning charm had been put to use enough to make him at expert, and last night was no exception). It was all very spontaneous and disorganised, though – nowhere near enough booze to go around all fifty or so of them. He would prepare a proper celebration for his homecoming later.

However, his sleepy bliss was interrupted the next morning by an owl that had somehow made it into the room (the window was shut…) clawing his face until he untied a letter around its painfully sharp talon summoning him to Professor Guillark's office at twelve o'clock. It looked like whatever he had been too tired to say the night before was going to be revealed now.

He moaned loudly, hoping the others would suffer the same lack of sleep he had to, only to realise that there was no one actually in the room and it was quarter past noon.

"Shit," he groaned, shuffling to the bathroom.

"Ah well. I'm already late; I might as well take my time." He then proceeded to spend the next forty-seven minutes unpacking his bag and grooming himself meticulously.

"Can't have old Guillark being put off by any scruffiness now, can we?" he grinned at his reflection in the mirror and began to shave – very slowly.

* * *

Any attempts at fiery flirting were dampened by a stern face from Guillark at his lack of punctuality and a note from the headmaster giving an outline of his situation. As well as the class notes he had already had thrust upon him the night before, Sirius also had to catch up on the last month's homework, and he was to do so in detention-like periods of any and all of his spare time starting now. The next month did not look appealing.

Sirius was then shut in a disused classroom with one large grimy window at the back and only a looming stack of parchment and a ceiling full of spiders to keep him company.

The boy sat on one of the painfully solid wooden stools far away from the foreboding work, as if the distance he had created between him and it could serve as a legitimate excuse for him not to start upon it. He rested his head for a moment, to remove his sleepiness before he started working properly. Of course we would start soon; he just needed a moment to rest…

* * *

"...see you must have a knack for efficiency. I must admit, even I could not finish a foot-high pile of work in half an hour and have time for a nap afterwards."

Sirius' eyelids must have been sewn shut with all their lack of cooperation in his attempts to open them. He decided, though, that whatever teacher it was that thought themselves so high and mighty as to talk to a Black heir that way deserved a little of his attention.

"Professor Dumbledore!"

Sirius' head shot up from of his now dead arm causing a large tuft of dark hair flopped in front of his face which he promptly flicked away with his other hand.

"Ha… Sorry about that. I didn't get a whole lot of sleep last night. Happy to back, y'know?"

The professor smiled warmly, "Whilst I am glad you hear that you returning to this old castle from what I am sure, if you don't mind me making such assumptions, was a magnificent mansion in Russia, is something you view as a cause for celebration, as your teacher I must state my disapproval rampant partying during school-time, despite my own partiality towards the odd festive bash."

Sirius relaxed into his chair. He knew Dumbledore's ways – that he did not believe in simple the typical 'order and accomplish' method of other teachers, only conversing lightly, bringing up his thoughts and recommendations as suggestions and not instructions. I made them seem all the more logical than if barked at him like Sirius was so used to, resulting in him generally following them through and gaining Dumbledore his respect.

"So," Dumbledore twirled his crooked wand in his equally crooked greying beard (Sirius stared, marginally aware of the hazard of it 'going off' any moment), "orders from above," he pointed his wand physically upwards, "state that you must partake one hour solid work for every piece of homework you have failed to hand in over the past six weeks, totalling forty-one hours in this room."

Sirius died a little inside.

"As your supervisor for this project of sorts along with the overseeing of Professor Guillark of course, I will allow this to be split up into two and a half hour periods every other day with potential exception for heavy regular workloads. I cannot break this up any more or you will be behind when it comes to end of year exams."

"That's not so bad, I suppose," Sirius mock sighed to show his actual contentment with the situation; he knew most other teachers would demand the work was all done immediately sans breaks sans sleep sans pupil consideration. "Thanks, Professor."

On his way from the desk at which Sirius now sat to the exit, Dumbledore cleared throat. "Also, for the sake of the effectiveness of these sessions, I see no reason why they must take place in solitude. Good day."

Several seconds after Dumbledore had shut the door behind him it flew open again and three grinning blurs rush in, sitting themselves on chairs and desks around Sirius, who could not help but beam himself.

Growing up, his gloomy little brother and the occasional gloomier second or third cousin would have to suffice at keeping him company. Now though, whilst he only had three really good friends, he knew that their loyalty and closeness as a group more than made up for this. He trusted them all with his life, and more than that, with each others' lives.

He glanced around at the boys. Peter was gesticulating enthusiastically telling what Dumbledore had said to them a few hours ago, with James joining in every so often with impressions of Sirius passed out from lack of work and Snape using his exhaustion to execute his murder plan.

Remus sat on the desk behind Sirius' chair, and was watching the re-enactment from right behind Sirius; his legs dangling either side of the back of Sirius' chair, his arms folded on the wooden frame at the top it and his chin rested lightly atop Sirius' head. Without trying to be arrogant, Sirius believed this closeness was Remus' relief that they were relaxed in each other's presence again. In the awkward limbo after the incident but before Sirius left for Moscow, both boys made incredible efforts not to be in the same room as each other. Sirius had slept in the common-room for four nights.

Despite all of what had happened Sirius' sense of reliance in him never wavered. If, even after that night, he had been in danger and needed to contact someone to help him, there would be no hesitation in him trying to get hold of Remus. All of his friends were amazing but he couldn't help but separate his feelings for Remus. It was more protective, more delicate and yet so powerful. It was strange, their relationship, but he didn't mind not understanding it. Remus made him smile and that was all he needed to know.

* * *

Sirius felt a sort of obligation to Dumbledore not to leave the room so Peter snuck off to get drinks for them all and miniature pumpkin pies from the kitchen house-elves. Sirius was slowly wading through the questions and essays with more than a little help from Remus, but he couldn't help but get distracted.

"Okay, so how do I know," James questioned, spluttering pastry crumbs everywhere, "how do I know that you're all not like, Inferi, cursed by an extremely talented wizard to convince me that you're all alive like me, and one day you'll just maul me to death."

"Because, my dear James," Remus said from his seat next to the paper pile that they all referred to know as the 'fun-slayer', "despite what you think the whole world does not, has not and will never revolve around you."

Sirius' laugh blasted around the room causing Peter to jump up in shock from his sleeping place on the desk, which only caused a larger stream of laughter from them all.

"But I suppose you could look at their hair and nails. You know, to see if they ever grew. And if not then yes, James, we are all magically-animated corpses."

"Yeah, cos studying my toenails would really save you if you weren't quite sure if my manic charging towards you was an indication of my wishing to kill you or not!"

"Sirius, your manic changing towards anyone can only ever be a bad thing."

* * *

The time spent in that dingy room see-sawed between bouts of banter and that of the boys (mostly Remus) trying to explain things they had learned in the lessons Sirius had missed, demonstrating the odd spell on each other to help.

After about an hour an a half, James apologised saying he was booked in for a Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw poker game which he had promised to help win. Peter, his ever-eager cheerleader, silently scuttled after him. Sirius turned to Remus who was sitting on the desk underlining mistakes in Sirius' Potions.

"You don't have to stay if you don't want to. You can go watch the match."

Remus just smiled and shook his head lightly. "I'm not playing, and just watching card games is pretty dull."

"We never actually finished talking yesterday before James came in."

Remus snorted softly, "He can't resist a pileup."

"I think he was just happy we were friend again."

"Yeah. Me too. I'm happy, I mean."

Sirius started to separate the hairs of his quill, making the whole thing lose all its elegance and look like it had been crushed by a troll.

"So you've figured out the reason I was made at you before?"

"To be honest," Remus blushed, "I haven't wanted to think about it, and getting on with life seemed so much more appealing. Although," he suddenly turned to Sirius his brow knitted together, "I don't see how anything I said or did or implied would cause you to tell me you wanted me to d-"

"I know. I'm sorry, I really am." Sirius interrupted not wishing those words to surface again. "That was way, way out of line. I don't want you dead. That's the last thing I want." Sirius' voice softened. "Please tell me you know that."

Remus shrugged, a little embarrassed by the sincerity of Sirius' apology and how intent he was in making sure Remus knew this. He couldn't help, however, to feel the weight that never should have been there had been lifted.

"But, Moony-"

Remus gave a quizzical look at the name.

"I'm trying it out. But y'see, Rem… you treated me like some dirty old racist being told his best mate was actually black. Y'know?"

Remus didn't question this analogy. It made little sense to reason but it made perfect sense to him. He saw his flaw.

"Right then, when you shouted at me that I'd better accept you or die or whatever you said, I felt like I was the monster. Not that I think you are, of course."

Remus was sitting on his hands, shoulders tense, looking guilty. "I can't believe what a git I was."

Sirius rose from his stool, causing it to screech along the parquet floor, and placed a hand on Remus' shoulder.

"You were scared; it's understandable. You didn't know how I would react." Sirius bent his neck down a little so Remus' downcast eyes met his. "Although, assuming I would rather leave than stay here with you was a little presumptuous, no?"

Remus shrugged, trying to keep emotions in but ended up wordlessly wrapping his arms around Sirius. He rested his cheek on Sirius' shoulder and he suddenly felt so cared for that his heart would explode from such fierce affection.

Sirius began stroking his back like he did when they were first-years, fearful of everything and worried they would never like up to their teachers', their parents', the wizarding world's expectations. Remus had a feeling it calmed Sirius as much as t did him.

The gentle scratching of his fingers though Remus' jumper was so deeply different to that of the beast and yet his movements seemed to outline each terrible scar perfectly. A fleeting thought wondered if his touch was healing them, but this was instantly discarded.

Remus took his arms from their position tightly wrapped around Sirius' back and found himself lightly grazing his own fingertips over Sirius' upper arms. Sirius, too, slid his arms from around Remus' back but moved them to his lean chest and continued the soothing scratches, smiling coolly as if to pull away but never doing so. Remus' hand stopped and held Sirius' arm lightly, and he faintly wondered how long these things should go on for between friends, or even if they should happen at all, but strangely, there was no awkwardness or need for explanation – to each other or to themselves.

Sirius' smile turned into a soul-penetrating stare and Remus knew he was getting his rarely-given full attention. He could feel their breath mixing as they exhaled and then breathed in the terrifying familiarity of each other. Remus told himself to stop thinking- it would only lead to complication and anguish, and for once, just stare back and accept that which was between them, that which was without a name.

**Wow. What a long-ass chapter.**

**Three more chapters.**

**Please review. It will make me smile. -_-**


	8. Chapter V

Chapter V

On the night Sirius' forty-one hour sentence was completed he proposed a party to his fellow roommates. He decided against having another 'house' party after the spell for fixing broken glass and a broken nose had to be hastily looked up at four in the morning. He wanted to spend more time having a laugh with his friends as well. And get well and truly sloshed.

He had managed to sneak in several packets of cigarettes from a dubious Moscow pharmacy (although from the package label they could be anything and why they were selling them in a supposed health store was beyond him). He had also paid an extortionate price to a seventh year for a bottle of firewhiskey and smuggled a 1954 Yuollberry wine from McGonagall's personal cabinet. When asked how he had got into her room, Sirius just gave James a wink which was returned with a look of horror and what Sirius could have sworn was jealousy.

The night of extravagant pleasures that were supposedly beyond their age went regrettably quickly seeing as the boys were not exactly heavy drinkers at the tender age of fifteen. The small quantities of alcohol were exhausted with strong effects and none of the boys complained that there wasn't enough despite there being only two bottles.

Peter started complaining of stomach-ache after half a shot and then disappeared off somewhere, claiming he had business to attend to ("Filling his gut with more of last night's treacle pudding, I bet!"), whereas James was drunk as a sailor having downed a surprising amount of firewhiskey after he bet he could drink the lot. This all happened, however, just moments before he filled the Remus-shaped dent in Peter's suitcase with vomit ("Thank God for magical cleaning charms!").

Remus decided not to smoke, being suddenly very conscious of his health. Sirius could tell what was running through his head, that life was more of a privilege when you're half-alive anyway. He did enjoy several goblets-full of wine, finding James' ridiculous behaviour all the more funny as the night went on, although that could have been due to either of their increasingly intoxicated states.

Sirius spent most of the night leaning back of the makeshift beanbag of his duvet, smoking gracefully and smiling over his two friends. The happy scene before him made him worry slightly about how long it would all last. The little alcohol in his system prevented his brain concentrating too deeply on it, but his mind fixed itself on Remus. The others he new would only be a letter away but he couldn't help but fear that Remus and he would be stuck in unavoidably separate circumstances. He tried to get his tired mind to focus on why he felt that way but couldn't seem to be able to. His own future was a messy blur and Remus' position was just as ambiguous. He tried to conjure up an image of him with a the generic wife and two children who he kissed each day off to the Ministry, but this didn't seem to fit and it made him feel queasy.

"Euuugh…" a faint groan echoed from the bathroom.

"What's that my dear boy? You would like to have an educated discussion on the negative effects of drinking half a litre of firewhiskey in under a minute?" Sirius held his cigarette daintily at the end of fingers doing the best impersonation of his father.

"Please stop smoking…"

"Worried about my health, are you Jamesy?" He turned to face a grinning Remus leaning on the doorframe separating him and his subject of mockery.

"No, you bastard!" the disembodied voice gurgled angrily, "It's making me feel worse, if that's even possible! And open a fucking window, please!" He then proceeded to vomit. Again.

"Now, now," Sirius tutted more to Remus now than James, who he was sure could no longer hear him, "no need for that kind of language, is there?"

Sirius sauntered towards Remus who had his head back, nodding it gently in time with the music they had put on what seemed like hours ago. His movements lessened as Sirius got closer.

"Fancy a walk around the grounds?"

Remus put down his empty goblet on a near cabinet.

"Is this a date?" Remus questioned shrewdly, but blushed heavily, obviously regretting saying it even as a joke as soon as it came out his mouth.

Sirius was not unaware of this. He took Remus' hand, bowing like the gentleman he was born to be and kissed it. He stayed there, head lowered and eyes locked for a few moments longer just to extend the other boy's agony for his own wicked pleasure. He then laughed heartily and spun into his exeunt of the stage, leaving Remus suspended in his next action, Sirius knowingly and yet completely obliviously controlling his every move.

Remus checked briefly over his shoulder to see James snoring, passed out over the rim of the toilet, content there would be no chance of choking on his own vomit. He then rushed out in Sirius' direction, sighing at his own unshakable dependence on the one he was chasing.

* * *

The two of them ended up walking, or staggering in Remus' case, round the castle buildings a few times. They got bored of exploring the same old cubbyholes and passages and found themselves clambering over the colossal gate of the Quidditch stadium.

"Wish I had my broom." said Sirius gazing the giant empty space in which they stood. The arena's great towering blocks and vast field never failed to impress him, and it was all so much more striking it the dim moonlight.

"Wish I wasn't so useless at flying…"

"You'd be good if you tried hard enough. You said yourself you found it boring."

"Well it is boring," Remus grumbled

"Then stop complaining!"

"Who's complaining? You're the one, I think you'll find, complaining about my complaining which is in fact…non-existent."

Sirius stopped to try to get his head around what he had just said, or try to say, but ended up sniggered at how different Remus was tonight, happy he was so relaxed even if it was only an effect of the alcohol.

"You're so full of shit, Moony. But you only show it when you're drunk."

Something about Remus at that moment, free from inhibitions, swaying gently in the wisping breeze, made him seem so sacred. What was coming out of his mouth didn't fit beside what was, in Sirius' eyes, the unmatched elegance and unexplainable magnificence that he simply was.

The moment did not last, and soon Remus was tripping over his feet during an attempt to turn around. Sirius was grinning softly standing cross-armed with his head tilted enjoying being a witness to the great composed Remus J. Lupin descending into drunken chaos.

"Urcctttggh…"

"What kinda noise is that?"

"…Your mum."

"…Wow. Good one Moony. You really know how to smack talk a guy into a dithering mess."

Remus spun around, gazing upwards.

"Did you know that Earth turns at, like, hundreds of miles per hour?"

"Yeah, sure, Rem," Sirius mocked, shifting his weight onto his hi.

Remus stopped spinning suddenly, wobbling a bit of course, but looking intently at Sirius, causing Sirius' stomach to jump a little at the sincerity of it.

"No, it's true. I know. It surprised me when I first heard it too, but it's really true."

Remus' body as well as his head was all over the place. He plummeted onto his back, the sport-thin layer of grass not doing much to break his fall. _But then again, _Sirius thought, _I'm sure his intoxication has removed even the concept of pain._ To prevent any potential embarrassment if his tumble was a drunken blunder, however, Sirius lay himself on the rough lawn too, so that the boys were laying head to toe .

"Well I guess it kinda makes sense. I mean, with all the craziness, something's gotta be driving it. If the world was slow, life would be slow, and it ain't like that."

After a pregnant pause Sirius turned his head to face Remus to see if he had drifted off to sleep, but he could only see his hip and hand. He reached out tentatively and grabbed Remus' thin wrist

"Rem?"

…

"You awake?"

"Makes you feel kind of hopeless. Like, you get what you've been given and there's nothing you can do to change it. All you can do is hold on tight." The quiet despair in his voice made Sirius' heart ache. "It just makes it all seem so meaningless."

"It's not." Sirius squeezed tight hoping the meaning would get through physically even if he wouldn't listen to the words themselves. "It's not meaningless, Rem. Yeah, it may all seem like a loada bollocks sometimes but just remember us: you, me, James and hey, even wormy little Pete. Even he can be alright when he's not parasitically attached to James' backside."

Sirius heard Remus laugh candidly like only someone in a drunken state can, and then go quiet as his glee drifted through the stilling night air. He squeezed Sirius' wrist back, holding tight as they both stayed silent, staring thoughtlessly up at the steady starts for what seemed like hours, and watched the craziness fly by.


	9. Chapter VI

**Spelling/grammar mistakes (hopefully) all corrected. I feel dirty for making them. *Shudder***

Chapter VI

The next morning, none of the boys were feeling particularly bright. James was practically passed out on the breakfast table and Sirius, who was hardly a morning person anyway, looked like he would snap the arm off of anyone who even tried conversing with him. Remus, however, feeling surprisingly unphased by the overload of poison lingering in his system, was happily slicing up his bacon before popping bits into his mouth. James turned away with a look frighteningly similar to the one he had right before rushing to the loo last night.

Remus gave the hall a quick scan. Peter was still missing. _Perhaps he's finally becoming more independent, _thought Remus vaguely, _or at least_ _not so dependant on us, which can only be a good thing, right?_

* * *

The first lesson of the day, and the only subject the three of them had together was Herbology. Today was a theory lesson, a rare but by no means less boring occurrence that took place in a specified classroom that was still, for some reason, coated wall-to-wall in miscellaneous greenery.

James insisted on sitting next to Lily (whose scowls when approached by him Remus swore had been reducing in ferocity recently) and Remus placed himself on his other side. As there was only four to a bench and the place next to Lily was taken by her friend Roberta, Sirius sat just across the isle on the adjacent table.

Even before Professor Ditchins had opened her mouth, the boys habitually prepared themselves for the lesson ahead, but not by retrieving homework from their bags or dipping their quills. Remus got out the square pieces of reddish parchment, handing two to the other boys, whilst the others muttered inconspicuous incantations loosely holding their wands beneath their robes.

The oblivious teacher lecturing at the front could not see the light swishing and looping of the tip of James' wand under the worn bench, but the movements he made traced themselves perfectly on each boy's paper in the form of writing.

"**Do you think Ditchins actually gets a buzz from learning about the 'uncanny strength density of various magical vines'?"**

After a few moments the words started to fade from the start of the writing, being replaced by an impression of a slightly different shade and thickness. As writing style varies from quill to quill, so do the tracings from wands of different substances.

"**Maybe. Depends what she likes in the bedroom. Normal rope may not be enough to hold her voluptuous girth with all that frisky movement…"**

Remus coughed over a poorly suppressed snort of laughter.

"**Sirius, you're a clinically sick bastard."**

Remus started his own wand flicking lightly under the desk, still looking up to appear enthralled by the Hinklock sample on display.

"**I second that."**

"**What dirty things ****were**** you up to in Moscow?" **formed James' blocky writing.

"**Nothing of the sort you're thinking of, I'm sure! I may have occupied my time in other productive ways, however. Like maybe infusing Bella's handcrafted elfin hairbrush with a mild explosive concoction. And adding a dollop or three of homebrewed extra-potent libid-o-grow to Malfoy's Irish firecoffee using a lock."**

Remus couldn't help but ask, knowing Sirius was teasing their curiousity.

"**Whose sample did you use as the subject of said… lusting?"**

"**His mother's."**

The whole class was then momentarily deafened by a painfully loud burst of James' laughter. It also caused, however, Professor Ditchins' face to swell with rage as she marched towards him.

"I don't suppose, Mr Potter," she barked, now looming right over him, her large form seeming to block out all light ominously, "you can recognise the sub-species of this sample? Or would you rather have a little laugh at whatever private joke you were involved in…somehow?"

James glanced warily at the slime-oozing green tube that was thrust in his face. He stared at it for a long while. Remus wondered vaguely if he might actually be contemplating the question. The thought was quickly written off when James' face turned from hazy confusion to extreme nausea, which was in turn proceeded by an impressive spray of vomit over the desk, and unfortunately for him, also coating Lily and her friend in his attempt to turn away from the putrid odour.

For the first time James Potter looked genuinely embarrassed and swiftly shuffled out of the greenhouse, muttering to please excuse him on the way out. Lily and Roberta were also excused mainly to clean themselves up but also Ditchins must have felt slightly responsible for James' messy outburst and let them miss the rest of the lesson to make up for having to put up with twenty minutes of 'Mr Potter's unashamed impudence'.

Sirius caught Remus' eye and he couldn't help grinning, despite being slightly concerned for James' physical wellbeing and, if any remained, how violently it would be beaten out of him by Lily Evans when she next encountered him.

He was shocked somewhat to see black markings appear once again on the Wandnote paper.

"**Would it totally cruel to admit that was funniest thing I've seen in a looong time?"**

"**I guess that makes us both pure evil then."**

Now finding himself alone on his bench, he felt the need to seize opportunity of a more private conversation. Before he could add to his last sentence, it began to fade away being replaced by the broad cursive writing Sirius had had thrust upon him to learn as a boy.

"**When I was in Moscow, I did other stuff too. I mean, I thought I would make the most of the resources in that place."**

Remus waited for the page to clear as Sirius' hand jerked rhythmically creating his next words.

"**I found some stuff on werewolves. A lot of it was tripe, but there were some proper useful things too. I've got a load of ideas to make your time of the month better. I'll need to talk to the Dumbledore though. He knows, right?"**

Remus nodded silently from across the space between them, trying to appear discrete to the rest of the class and trying desperately to hide the smile that came from knowing Sirius cared that much about him in going to that much trouble for him. He sounded so eager to help with the problem that for the first time, Remus himself even felt a little hope and even enthused at carrying out these ideas of Sirius'.

* * *

Several slow minutes through the seemingly endless lesson, they got put into pairs to carry out a practical that had already been carried out twice by Ditchins anyway but they were told it would 'increase practical Herbology skills (whatever those were) and consolidate their knowledge of Ephiodorr's Amino-Magi Binding theory by measuring and evaluating the growth rate of a vine segment every five minutes whilst comparing the findings with non-magical plants'.

"Mr Black, seeing as your usual partner in crime somehow managed to evacuate nearly an entire desk, you can be partnered with Mr Lupin for today. I trust you'll behave yourself with him?"

"Course," he said, more to Remus than her, flashing him a sideways smile.

"Good. Then Miss Friedman can go with Mr King, and Mr Parry with…"

Sirius grabbed an ivy-coated stool from under Remus' desk ignoring Jessica Friedman's groan at the unfortunate allocation of Barry 'the Tit-Fondler' King as her lab-partner that drowned out the various screeches, tickings and the odd mini-explosion of the vegetation in the room around them.

After about thirty seconds of staring at the motionless limp green object of what Professor Ditchins called a 'subject of profound magi-scientific interest', they found themselves continuing the conversation where the notes left off. Remus asked about Moscow as a city to which Sirius could only answer with what little he was exposed to from his elegant prison.

"Oh yeah, one of the things I considered when I was thinking about your _problem _was that it's unfair for you to be alone. So I thought maybe the three of us could-"

"Don't even think about it Sirius, it's far, far too dangerous."

"So… I looked into this thing. You might have heard of it, it's called the Animagus transformation. Don't look so shocked! I know it's tough magic but I'm top of the class in Transfiguration, well maybe other than you of course, and James isn't so bad either. Pete will cope; he'll just be something simple like a maggot."

It made sense. Sirius, despite his beg-headedness, was a highly adept wizard and once they had mastered it, they would no longer be a target for the wolf. Even if he lashed out once or twice, they would be able to protect themselves. They would have to do it without the proper ministerial formality of registering and basic training; suspicions would be quickly raised if three underage boys asked to do something so drastic without giving reason.

Remus nodded, "We should look into it."

The general murmurings in the room grew to animated discussions and various students forgot all about the sad piece of greenery they were meant to be monitoring. Sirius started revealing deeper more personal thoughts, clearly feeling his secrets would be protected with the wall of buzzing surrounding them. He confided quietly to Remus about what he had felt in the Moscow house library after he had seen the book 'Power'.

"That house did something to me, but it was still me, my thoughts. I'm sick." Sirius looked genuinely ashamed and his eyes flickered with worry as he rested his chin on the desk, supported by his fist. Remus didn't know what to say, but he knew Sirius was wrong.

"You're not sick. You're the most real person I've ever known and you're also the kind-hearted," Remus spoke firmly, determined to imbed the message into his stubborn head, lowering his voice and moving closer so Sirius would know these words were for him and no one else, "and you know I wouldn't lie about that so please stop dwelling on it. We all have moments where we think things we don't really mean." _I know I had a few when you were away._

Remus pillowed his head in the crook of his elbow. "I bet after that argument you couldn't get away fast enough. I don't blame you; I said some pretty nasty things I didn't mean." He glanced up to meet Sirius' gaze. "You know I only said those things to get back at you, right? Well, of course you do. You can always read me."

Remus prodded the small stringy sample with the nib of his old peasant quill until acrid slime trickled out of either end into the petri dish. "Not that I mind. You always see the best in me, even when it's hard to see, even if I don't see it myself. But I still wouldn't blame you at all if you had a well-worn Remus Lupin punching bag in your luxurious Russian boudoir."

Remus gave a large smile and a light laugh that were completely empty, and he knew that Sirius could see right through them. Sirius leaned in a little more.

"Remus-"

"If you two were any closer you'd be in each other's laps!" Remus lifted his head at the speed of light to see Professor Ditchins glaring at them, hands on dumpy hips. She caught his eye. "And Mr Lupin, please do_ not_ poke the specimen. Your readings may be completely off now!"

She moved away, eyes scanning for a new target. "Mr King, I hardly think that's appropriate behaviour for…"

Both boys were now bolt upright, the realisation of their close proximity making even Sirius' face redden; he hadn't even tried to reply to what Ditchins had said with a defiant retort.

* * *

After several painfully long minutes of silence and another recording taken (0.3mm) Remus was clearly showing some discomfort at what had just happened, clicking his fingers in a rhythmless haste, a nervous habit of his. Sirius stared on at the dish, lightly cradling his head in his heads, wondering vaguely if the pressure of being watched was giving the poor vine growth-anxiety.

'Suppose…"

Remus stopped clicking and glanced over, "What?"

"Suppose that I missed you."

Silence.

"Suppose that I really missed you. Too much."

Sirius couldn't bring himself to turn around or even dare think about what exactly he was saying, what he had been putting off saying for weeks – hell, months.

"Suppose that I care. Suppose I think about you – more…more than a friend should."

He was now speaking frantically into his hand while the other cradled his forehead.

"Sirius…"

"Suppose that I'm nothing-"

Sirius flicked his eyes over to meet those of the boy next to him as he lowered his hands.

"I'm nothing without you, Remus Lupin."

* * *

**The words of Sirius's confession, and the title and initial inspiration for this story, are from the song 'Suppose' by Secondhand Serenade, ergo, not mine…**


	10. Chapter VII  The End

Chapter VII

Remus sat aghast, clearly stunned at the sincerity of his confessions. His mouth was frozen with lack of things to say or lack of brainpower at that present time to do anything about them. His right hand still rested on the table mid-click.

But before even seeing his face, Sirius knew. He knew what he said was only going to cause trouble. He knew he should have kept his stupid fucking mouth shut. He knew Remus would never be able to reflect his feelings. No matter how considerate he was, love couldn't be faked, and it just hurts all the more when someone tries.

As if to snap him out of this despair and remind him that life didn't and couldn't end at a mere broken heart, the professor shouted that it was time to pack up and go to lunch break before carrying on with lessons.

"Remus, forget it. You don't have to worry about letting me down easy. I know you don't feel the same, so please don't feel obliged to-" his voice was shaky and he couldn't seem to get the volume right.

Sirius was interrupted Ditchins' cries over shuffling of bags and scraping of stools. "Oh and before you leave, I need a volunteer to help me clear up! Don't all rush at once…"

"We'll do it"

Sirius blinked.

"Thank you, Mr Lupin. Ten points to Gryffindor."

"Um, right, good call, Moony. Slytherins are already gloating over the cup, saying they might as well claim it for this year now. To be honest, I can hardly argue - we're well behind. Ha ha…"

Remus was already passing used equipment to Ditchins in the store cupboard while Sirius hovered over the sink, half-rinsing slime, half-scrutinising Remus' actions for a hint at his mood.

"It's okay, professor. It's mostly done. We'll do the rest. It's just removing the samples and putting away the washed dishes, right?"

"Thank you, dear," she said wiping her pink brow with her blue spotty gloves before handing Remus the keys to the building. "After today's events I could use a strong mug of tea."

As she waddled out the wooden door, Sirius turned to Remus who was sorting the samples into 'reusable' or 'rubbish' and looked at him in sad pride.

_Amazing,_ he thought, _he doesn't even flinch when I make him feel this uncomfortable. I don't know anyone else who would care so much about a friend to go out of his way, despite any discomfort he feels, to prove to that he doesn't mind being the subject of unrequited love by spending time alone together, and right after finding out._

"Um, thanks Rem," Sirius managed, swinging shut the door to the labware cupboard. He hoped Remus knew how grateful he really was to be his friend. _If only that was all I wanted._

Remus made a sound of vague acknowledgement, eyes on the ground, walked over to the main door of the little classroom adjoined to the greenhouse site as if to open it and then stopped so abruptly that Sirius stumbled over himself to stop himself running into him. Remus was unreadable; his messy fringe covering his lowered eyes. Sirius stood for a few moments, for a few ridiculous moments wondered of he was going to be queer-bashed by his passive best mate.

Remus raised his arm above Sirius and, harmlessly but with significant force thumped the top of Sirius' head with his fist.

"Idiot," Remus mumbled before turning to leave the musty classroom.

More than slightly bemused, Sirius sighed internally and followed his friend as they left the building. After shutting it, he quickly spun around and cried, "Oh right, locking up."

"You know," started Remus forcefully, "I take back what I said in there about you – about you knowing me more than I know myself and all that."

Sirius fumbled with the jumble of oversized brass keys on the chain. Oh God, where's the key. Looking at the hole it should be more squared at the top. I don't even think it's here. Maybe she left us the wrong keys which would be awful because- because – oh, please Remus, I couldn't stand it if you hated me!

"For years, I suppose, you can't have known me at all."

Found it. Turning the dull key slowly with one hand, all energy seemingly drained away, Sirius felt the internal mechanisms of the lock slide into place, along with a warm hand sliding into his own, fingers intertwining and locking into their own place. Fitting. Needing more than force alone to remove.

"Idiot. You never had a clue how I felt this whole time."

The End

**Ta-da! Hope you enjoyed reading my first story since a weird piece of English coursework I did three years ago about a mental woman who kills herself… yaaay.**

**Thank you for reading all the way through (or skipping several thousand words of twaddle to see what happened in the end) it means a lot. I'm not sure if I'll be writing another, though. There are so many out there, I feel mine would get lost amongst all the great stories.**

**Please give an overall review, though. It would make my day, even more than finding out I got into my second-top uni (hell to the yeah)!**


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